


Infect Me with Your Love (and Fill Me with Your Poison)

by ephemerallyurs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Butt Plugs, Jealous Louis, M/M, Makeup Sex, Smut, So much smut, an excuse to write, ass worship, because it's worth worshiping, someone is a power bottom, this is just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerallyurs/pseuds/ephemerallyurs
Summary: "Okay," Harry says, mildly reassured by Louis' change in tone. Still naked, he follows him down the stairs to the front door. The keys clinking together in Louis' hand leaves a pit in Harry's stomach. He's going to remember this as their first fight as a real couple living together and he's the one who caused it.He should be the one to fix it.In lieu of kissing goodbye, Harry forces a closed-lip smile, tight around the edges.Louis' eyes turn dark. He takes a step closer to Harry, invading his space. "Don't you fucking dare touch yourself while I'm gone," he says. He reaches out and cups Harry's flaccid cock. His palm is warm. "I'll know it if you do."or, Harry and Louis have their first fight, ultimately leading to their first makeup sex. It's a wild ride.





	Infect Me with Your Love (and Fill Me with Your Poison)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harrysconcept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrysconcept/gifts).



The history books will say that Harry Styles was good at everything, and it will be a _lie_. In fact, he is absolute shit at conflict resolution.

The soft gray light of a rainy Sunday morning wakes him. He's spooning his pillow with a leg thrown over the top of it, grinding down in a sleepy haze. The friction is _glorious_. He grinds down again, long and slow, savoring, biting the corner of the pillowcase to muffle a sigh. _Fuck_ , that's good.

Because he's a teenager and not above using any means necessary to get off, the grinding quickly morphs into messy thrusting and the muffled sighs turn into breathy gasps. _God_ , it's good, he fucking _loves_ it, could stay here in the blurry mist between dreams and wake, where sensation overpowers _everything_ and all that matters is chasing that sharp pull building with every thrust of his hips.

He screws his eyes shut, fucking into the pillow, willing himself to come, but it's not _enough_. He needs the tight grip of his hand. A shiver runs down his spine as he grabs himself, dry but for the little dribble of pre-come at the tip.

Typically, he'd use his own spit, making it nice and wet and messy, to lessen the burn of the skin-on-skin friction as he brings himself off on short, fast pulls. This morning is different. He wants to _feel_ it. And it's there, he's right _there_ , hanging on the edge of a precipice, one more stroke and-

"Haz?" _Fuck_. He stills his hand and his orgasm is lost. "Babe, you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," Harry mumbles. He gives himself one remorseful tug, then turns to face his boyfriend.

Harry's pleasure-riddled body acts on instinct, folding itself into Louis. He nuzzles his nose into the space between his neck and collarbone, reveling in his sleep-musk scent. He smells delicious. His cock agrees, still hard and wanting, pressed into Louis' thigh.

Louis gasps and pushes Harry away by his shoulders, holding him there. "Holy shit, were you just...having a _wank_?"

"Um." Harry doesn't know what to say. He was, in fact, just masturbating into a pillow in the bed he shares with his boyfriend with said boyfriend not two feet away. Sleep is no longer clouding Harry's brain and his thoughts are moving at a confusing pace. Neither of them have ever caught the other in the act before. This is a first in the whole short time they've lived together and Harry is _embarrassed_.

Louis' face lights up. "Holy fuck, you were!" He nudges his thigh into Harry's cock. Louis smiles as Harry blushes, clearly delighted at having caught him out. He's divided between chasing pleasure Louis's offered with his thigh and shrinking away to hide.

He knows-he just _knows_ -that Louis will use this against him in every way he sees fit for the foreseeable future.

Louis sees the trepidation in Harry's eyes and brings him back into a cuddle. "Aw, love, don't be like that. It's okay."

Harry hides his face in Louis' neck. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he assures him. He strokes Harry's hair. Harry likes it best when Louis uses his blunt nails to scratch at his scalp. He wishes Louis would do that now, and maybe pull at it a little. Perhaps gather fistfuls in each hand as he pushes Harry into the mattress, taking him from behind. "Tell me though. Do you have hot solo morning sessions often?"

An embarrassed squeak escapes Harry's throat. Since Louis pretends to not have heard, Harry mumbles out a "no" into his neck.

"Mmm," Louis hums, continuing his little pets, "I wonder then, what got you so hot this morning?"

 _Fuck_ , it's torture to just think about it again. Harry's dick gives an interested twitch and he sighs.

"Well?" Louis prompts.

"Um," Harry hedges.

Louis removes his hand from Harry's hair and before Harry can make a noise of protest, he snakes the hand between them and rubs comforting circles into Harry's lower belly. "What got you so hot, Haz?" he rasps.

Louis' fingers dance at the top of Harry's pubic hair. His cock stiffens, regaining the glory it lost when embarrassment took over.  If Louis moves two inches further, he'd be right where Harry needs him. He won't need much. He's edged and one denied orgasm in already, just a few quick strokes and the flick of his wrist is all it would take.

"A dream," he replies. He grinds down into Louis and moans when he rubs against Louis' hard cock. He presses his palm into Harry's pubic bone, eliciting another choked moan.

Louis' hips meet Harry's sloppy thrusts, making purpose out of them. "Tell me about the dream, baby," he breathes.

"It was, ah, the best dream I've-I've ever had," he says, taking his face out of Louis' neck to nibble at his jaw. This is so much better than the pillow.

"The best, hmm?" Louis says, taking what he can of the both of them into his hand. He keeps his fingers placed at their bases and doesn't move. "Tell me what happened."

Harry hesitates and cries out when Louis squeezes him. The tight hold hurts and it's absolute fucking _bliss_. " _Lou_ ," Harry begs, "please."

"Tell me and I'll get us both off," Louis promises.

Yes. "Yes, I want," he keens, trying to grind up into Louis's fist, but Louis doesn't let him, "want it so bad."

"Tell me."

Warmth floods Harry's limbs. "He was holding me up," he says.

Louis stiffens, and not in the right way. "What?"

Harry freezes. Like, he might actually have turned cold. "What?"

" _Who_ was holding you up?" Harry tries a couple protesting thrusts, but Louis doesn't meet him half way. He drops the hold of his hand. "No," Louis says, scooting away from the middle of the bed. "You just said 'He was holding me up.' I swear to fucking God-Harry, who are you talking about?"

"It was just a dream," Harry says, voice small. And it's true, it was just a dream. Why is Louis reacting this way? Surely, he has wet dreams, too?

"Just a dream," he scoffs, mocking Harry. "Your wet prick says otherwise."

Really? "I can't choose what I dream about!"

"You choose what you get off to," Louis says, shuffling out of the covers with his back turned. He gets out of bed and heads for the ensuite, leaving the door open. The shower turns on and Harry recognizes the sound of the shower door sliding open and then closed.

He throws the blankets off of him in one motion and is instantly assaulted with the sight of his sad dick. Jesus fuck. He messed up. "Baby," he says, slow and testing, entering the bathroom. "Can I come in?"

"No, answer my question." Louis is facing the stream of the shower head, away from Harry, so he can't read his expression.

How did this turn into the worst lazy Sunday morning wake up in existence?

Because Harry loves his boyfriend and could never lie to him, he says, "Chris Evans." Louis slides the glass door open and sticks his head out so fast it gives Harry whiplash.

" _What?_ "

"Chris Evans was holding me up," Harry explains. Louis slams the door closed again. Surprisingly, the glass doesn't break. Through the steam, he can see him grab the shower gel and a loofah.

"That's fucking rich," he says as he soaps up his legs.

Harry stands there, helpless and naked in the doorway, feeling dumb. Is this a fight? Are they having a fight right now? They're in a fight and Harry doesn't even really know _why_.

The water shuts off and Louis steps out. He curses a stream of expletives at the sight of the empty towel rack. Harry should offer to run to the linen closet and get him one. He doesn't.

"Move," Louis says. He shoves past him, leaving water droplets down Harry's front.

"Are you mad at me?" Harry asks.

Louis sneers from the hallway.

"But _why?"_

"Oh, don't play dumb," he says and comes back into the bedroom with his towel-dried hair sticking in every direction. "It's insulting to the both of us."

"I'm not-just tell me _what did I do?_ " he says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Louis turns on him, livid. "You _used_ me to get off on the idea of another man--Chris _fucking_ Evans-you complete knob." He turns away from Harry, like it physically pains him to even look at his boyfriend, and reaches into his wardrobe drawers, sifting through until he finds underwear and joggers.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes." _Oh, no._ Harry's heart sinks-he'll probably be able to find it down the shower drain.

"Where are you going?"

"Full of questions today, I see."

"Are you coming back?"

Louis' gaze softens when he looks back at Harry. "Yes," he says, "of course." He throws on a t-shirt and shoes with no socks. "I'm going to run a few errands. I don't know how long it'll take me, but I just--I need to get out of here."

"Okay," Harry says, mildly reassured by Louis' change in tone. Still naked, he follows him down the stairs to the front door. The keys clinking together in Louis' hand leaves a pit in Harry's stomach. He's going to remember this as their first fight as a real couple living together and he's the one who caused it.

He should be the one to fix it.

In lieu of kissing goodbye, Harry forces a closed-lip smile, tight around the edges.

Then, Louis' eyes turn dark. It's _that_ look. He takes a step closer to Harry, invading his space. "Don't you _fucking dare_ touch yourself while I'm gone," he says. He reaches out and cups Harry's flaccid cock. His palm is warm. "I'll know it if you do."

 

***

 

It's been over an hour and Louis is not back home. Harry spent the better part of that time pacing the foyer, think of ways to make Louis forgive him for his unconscious thoughts and the unacceptable way in which Harry acted on them. He decides, in the end, that the only way is to show Louis that he is the only boy Harry ever needs and he wouldn't _dream_ of wanting different.

So, he concocts a plan.

 

***

 

Harry's on his hands and knees, has been for a while, and it's a struggle. He's finished dusting the picture frames on the hall wall and the ones on the banister, completed meal preparations for dinner (Louis' favorite meal), and has vacuumed every floor surface. The apartment is looking brand new again, just like it does every time Harry completes a long list of chores, but he has treated the baseboards as an optional chore since they moved in and they need work. The apartment is quite big and being bent over like this is doing _things_. Singing along to the _Hairspray_ soundtrack has proved to be an adequate distraction, but only just. He's finished the dining room and is ready to move on to the living areas when his phone vibrates with a notification. Now is as good a time for a break as any.

He grabs his phone from where it's charging on the TV stand and pauses the music. He plops down onto the couch and his breath hitches. _Fuck_. The pressure is more than nice.

See, Harry has a plug in his ass.

It's the big purple one-the one that's weighted. He decided to put it in shortly after his pacing episode in the foyer when he'd convinced himself that it would be technically _not_ breaking Louis' instruction for Harry to not touch himself because he clearly meant that Harry wasn't allowed to touch his dick.

And he's proud because he _didn't_ touch himself. Not once. He used only the toy to work himself open and if asked he'd say that he didn't enjoy it one bit. The proof is in the fact that he started out in the ensuite bathroom, leaned over the counter with one hand pulling back his left cheek as the other worked the tip of the lube-covered plug over his hole. He was in such a rush to push it in so he could get to work on the household duties, that it actually _hurt_. This wasn't about him pleasuring himself--even though the stretch burned so much that he had to stop at one point because he _liked_ it--this was about him doing something nice for Louis, to say sorry for hurting his feelings earlier in the day. He had moved to the bed, and carefully avoiding his prostate, he slipped the toy over the base into his ass and pledged to forget about it until Louis got home.

Anyway, sitting on the couch he sifts through his phone, browsing through all his missed notifications. The newest one is a link to recent photos of Louis out in London.

According to the articles, Louis spent his morning and early afternoon driving to shops and getting lunch at a restaurant that Harry doesn't like.  He's wearing a jacket with the hood up and aviators, so Harry can't see his face, and he doesn't quite know whether or not he's projecting, but his boy looks utterly peaceful sitting there alone. In the other photos, he's in the Aston Martin. Harry bites his lip.

He wants to text him, tell him how much he loves him and wants him. Wants to list out the obscene images that come to his mind when he sees a picture-just like this one-of his lips wrapped around a straw. He puts his phone down, thinking that Louis would rather not receive a text from Harry. He'd rather tell him in person anyway.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wondering what time Louis will be home. _When_ he'll be home. He shifts again when the plug nudges against his spot. Hopefully Louis likes his gesture of forgiveness because it's absolute torture for Harry and there's no way that any amount of campy music will distract his dick, no matter how loudly he sings this time.

 

***

 

He's putting the finishing touches of polish around the corner of the entryway when Louis finally, _finally_ walks through the front door.  

"'Arry!" Louis calls out as he comes around the corner.

"Over here, babe." When Louis turns to see him kneeling on the ground, polishing towel in hand, Harry says, "Hey."

"Hey." His tone is unreadable. "What did you do today?"

Harry stands, carefully disguising his facial expression as the toy shifts inside him, and lifts the dirty towel and bottle of polish.

Louis nods. "The house looks nice," he says and he leans in to place a chaste kiss on Harry's temple.

Okay. This is good. Maybe he's not mad anymore. Harry follows him into the living room. Louis plops down on the sofa before Harry makes it into the room.

"Watch any movies today?" Louis asks over his shoulder.

"What? No."

"No? Mmm," he says airily. "Didn't fancy yourself a little _Captain America_ marathon then?"

He winces, stopping on his way to sit next to Louis. "Lou," he draws.

Louis' steely eyes look up at Harry as he stands in front of him. "I asked you to not touch yourself," he says.

Harry gulps. He's the one standing, but Louis might as well be towering over him. "I didn't."

"Fucking liar," he accuses. He leans back into the cushions and gestures a hand down Harry's body. "Your face is flushed, lips all bitten red, and you're wobbling."

Well, okay, so all of that is true. "Um," Harry says in explanation.

"I wasn't upset anymore, you know," Louis continues, "but now I am."

"No, Lou, no, let me explain, please," he rushes out in one breath.

Louis crosses his arms over his chest. "Fine."

Harry says, "Um," and Louis lets out an annoyed sigh. "Okay," Harry tries again. "So, um, I didn't, like, um, touch myself or, like, get off." Louis is unconvinced, so he adds, "I plugged myself."

Louis' eyebrows reach his hairline. He might have gasped a little bit, too.

 _Yes_ , Louis is affected.

"Want to see?" Harry asks. He doesn't wait for Louis' reply. He turns to face away from him and drops his shorts, bending over just enough to expose the purple base of the plug. Best _I'm sorry_ in history.

"Haz," Louis says, throat gravely. "Why did you do that?"

"So I'd be ready for you when you got home. To say I'm sorry."

Louis barks a single laugh. "Un _fucking_ believable."

Harry whips around, his hope and arousal sinking. _What now?_

"Cleaning and offering sex," Louis deadpans, "that's how you thought to resolve it?"

They've never had a fight like this, so Harry didn't _know_ how to resolve it. "I made dinner, too," Harry adds sheepishly.

Louis laughs bitterly and runs a hand down his face. "You thought that prepping to get fucked would earn forgiveness? In what alternate universe would sex where _I'm_ doing all the bloody work, warrant _you_ forgiveness. Jesus Christ, Haz."

Harry is once again dumbfounded.

"You want me?" Louis says after a beat.

Yes. "Only you, Lou," Harry says. "Always you."

"Turn around," Louis says, feigning indifference.

Harry does as he's told.

"Bend over. Show me."

Harry leans forward, feeling Louis' eyes on him.

"I said show me."

Harry's breath sticks in his throat. He places his palms on his ass cheeks and exposes himself, feeling embarrassed for not the first time today. It's good under Louis' harsh gaze. He feels hot. A heat he's never felt before. It's erotic.

"Know what I get off to? When you're in bed early or I'm home alone?" Louis asks. Harry suspects he's not looking for a reply. "You. Every. Single. Time." Harry clenches with each word. The weight of the toy is divine, the fullness sending sharp jabs of pleasure down his spine.

" _Ah, fuck_ ," Harry moans. Louis must have fingers on the plug, wiggling it inside him. His cock responds beautifully.

"Want me inside you, baby?" Louis coos. "Want me to fuck you?"

" _Please_ ," Harry begs.

Louis flicks the base of the toy, making Harry cry out. "No," he says. "I have a better idea." Louis leaves the room and Harry follows and for the first time today, he allows himself to welcome the sensations the plug sends through his body with each step.

"Bed," Louis says, smiling wickedly.

Harry obeys, positioning himself on all fours and arching his back.

"No, no. On your back."

Harry rolls over, confused but obedient, as Louis rummages through bedside drawers. He climbs on the bed on his knees between Harry's legs, the bottle of lube gripped in his hand. Louis coats his fingers and snaps the lid closed. Harry's eyes drift shut in anticipation, waiting for Louis to remove the plug.

"Watch me." He squeezes Harry's bent knee. He opens his eyes just as Louis reaches behind himself. Oh, _God_. He can't see from this angle, but Louis is definitely _fingering_ himself. "Shit, I'm tight," he rasps for Harry's benefit.

 _Fucking hell_. Harry is going to _die_. He reaches a hand down to stroke himself to full hardness faster.

"No," Louis admonishes. "I need you hard, but don't touch yourself. Just watch."

Harry leans up on his elbows and watches as Louis finger fucks himself. Louis' biceps flex as one hand thrusts and the other holds himself open for easier access. He can see where his fingers disappear, but the vantage point leaves much to the imagination.

"Adding a third," Louis says. Harry's dick twitches at the image. "I'm almost ready, baby, and then I'm going to fuck myself on that big cock."

Harry clenches around the toy and keens, groaning, head of his cock leaking. He falls back until he hits the mattress.

"I'm going to _use_ you," he moans. Harry's eyes snap up to meet Louis'. This is a _punishment_ , he realizes,  prick dribbling more precome. His breath quickens and he bears down against the bed, trying to fuck the toy deeper into his prostate.

"Stop," Louis orders. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the duvet, then opens the lube bottle and holds it over Harry's dick, squeezing until the liquid drips out, coating him. Harry hisses and squirms at the feeling.

"Cold?" Louis asks. Of course it's cold and Louis fucking _knows._ Knows that Harry's groin has been hot and over-sensitive all day. Knows that Harry is enjoying the easy torture.

Louis snaps the bottle closed, making his skin tingle in anticipation. He takes hold of Harry in his hand and smooths the lubricant in two slow, agonizing strokes. "This is mine."

Harry nods. "Yours."

"Don't come," he says, keeping Harry tight in his still hand.

"Okay," Harry breathes. His cock betrays him, thickening and twitching noticeably in Louis' grip.

"I mean it, don't you dare come, or I fucking _swear-_ "

"I-no-I won't come, not until you tell me to," Harry rushes out. "I promise."

"Good boy." _Oh_.

In one swift movement, Louis faces away from Harry and straddles his cock with his back turned. Louis lines himself up, takes multiple steadying breaths, showing the only evidence of weakness in his armor of control, and sinks down, taking Harry's thickness smoothly and all at once.

Harry stops breathing, fingers twisting in the sheets, pulling the corners loose when Louis lowers himself down a second time. The tight heat is overwhelming and Harry's not sure he'll be able to keep his promise. He's doesn't know if he's allowed to move, to meet Louis halfway. He wills himself to be good and doesn't move.

"Fuck, Harry-shit," Louis cries. He looks over his shoulder at Harry. "'S been a while since I've done this, yeah?"

"Ye-," Harry starts to agree, cut off by Louis bottoming out again.

Louis rocks his hips, grinding down, as Harry watches, mesmerized by the gorgeous curve of his back.

"You feel so fucking good," Harry says.

Louis looks back at him again. "Yeah?"

Harry nods eagerly. Louis' ass is the best thing that's ever happened to him, wet dreams be damned.

"Put your hands on me, then," he says sharply, like a command. Harry takes it as an order, placing his hands on Louis' hips. With Harry guiding him, Louis picks up his pace.

Louis' ass fits perfectly in Harry's palms. He kneads the heels of his hands into him as he lifts him up off his cock, and squeezes when Louis drops down. The mixture is a heady sight and Harry wants to touch, to _feel_ as much of Louis as he can. He brings in one of his thumbs to Louis' crack, dangerously close to where they join together. Louis turns to look at him, filthy sounds falling from his lips.

"So perfect, Lou, I- _ungh_ -oh, _fuck_." He clenches his jaw shut when Louis stops midway down his length. He loops an arm under one of Harry's legs, bracing himself and forcing Harry open, exposing him. Harry plants his feet flat into the bed.

"Fuck me, baby," Louis moans. And Harry does. He fucks Louis slow and hard, eliciting a rhythmic mix of hot breath, profanity and little _ah ah ah_ s out of him. Louis' head falls forward, his chin pressing into his chest.

"You like that?" Harry asks, rubbing his thumb over Louis' stretched hole and his own cock thrusting inside him.

Louis glances back at him again, his eyebrows pulled up together. "Mmm," he moans, "keep doing that, baby, and you're forgiven." Harry pulls Louis apart, grip tight, and fucks him _harder_.

 _Fucking hell_ , they should have makeup sex more often. Harry loses himself, focusing only on the electric pull in his stomach and the tight heat of the man riding him.

Harry had all but forgotten about the toy plugging his ass until he feels the base breaching his rim. His rhythm falters and he clenches, unconsciously forcing his legs together. Louis still has an arm looped around one of his legs.

"How's that feel?" Louis gasps. Harry tries to find his rhythm again, but Louis twists and pulls the base until it's catching on his rim.

" _Ah_ ," Harry breathes, followed by a string of _yeah_ s.

Louis picks up Harry's rhythm, matching his thrusts with pulling out the plug. "Fuck-Harry- _tell me_ ," he says between the canting of Harry's hips.

Harry sobs. "Good, so good," he cries, " _Lou_ , I'm gonna-"

"Don't you _dare_." He jabs the plug into his prostate, emphasizing his point. His hips freeze, the warm lure enticing him towards the edge. He clenches around the toy as Louis' hand picks up a tormenting pace, vibrating it, and fucking himself on Harry's cock at the same time.

"Lou!" he whines, aching to come.

"So close, baby," he breathes, keeping his momentum on Harry's throbbing cock. "Want you to come inside."

His legs begin to shake. He chants Louis' name, melting into the duvet, letting Louis _use_ him. When he wakes up tomorrow morning stiff and wet at the tip, _this_ is what he'll think about. Louis bouncing on his cock. Louis breathing his name. Louis' ass in his hands. Louis fluttering around him. LouisLouisLouis _Louis_.

"Now, Harry!" he shouts, grinding on his dick, quivering. He looks over his shoulder to watch Harry's face as they come together.

As Louis works the wide edge of the plug out of him, Harry ponders ways to start petty fights to provoke makeup sex in the future.

Louis drops the toy on the foot of the bed and falls back onto Harry's chest, not at all bothered by the dirty mess they created. Harry wraps around Louis, tugging him onto his side. His little spoon.

They'll resume their day when they recover. Harry will make Louis' favorite meal for supper. They'll watch trash reality shows while they cuddle on the sofa. One of them will complain when it's time for bed and they realize they never changed the sheets.

And before sleep takes them, Louis will smile at him. The closed-lip smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The smile that's more of a smirk. The smile that says he was never mad to begin with.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my friend Ry because I love her. She's crazy and sweet and amazing.  
> Thanks for titling this for me, Ry. Kissy xx
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos. They make my heart swell.


End file.
